Chapter 4 - A HOUSE BUILT ON FALSE RECORDS
By the third day, Leo had gained five ounces.
Five ounces.
I had never understood how much hope could fit inside such a small number.
Dr. Hart weighed him twice because Lorenzo didn't believe her.
Then she made him read the scale himself.
"Five point three ounces," she said.
Lorenzo stared.
"You're sure?"
Camille sighed.
"No, Lorenzo. I went to medical school for twelve years so I could lie about scales."
I laughed.
I didn't mean to.
The sound escaped before I could stop it.
Lorenzo looked at me.
For a second, I felt guilty.
Laughing still felt disloyal to Lily.
As if happiness were something I had promised never to touch again.
Then Leo sneezed.
Camille smiled.
"See? Even he thinks you're ridiculous."
Lorenzo looked at his son.
And smiled.
It wasn't the smile of a dangerous man.
It was awkward.
Small.
Almost rusty.
That was when I realized I had never seen him happy.
Not once.
The moment disappeared when Nico entered.
"We found the staffing company."
Lorenzo handed Leo to me.
"Talk."
"A woman named Denise Varlowe incorporated it six months ago."
"Who is she?"
"Doesn't exist."
"Meaning?"
"Identity assembled from dead records and fake documents."
Nico put several pages on the table.
"Bank account received three deposits."
"From?"
"Consulting company called Meridian Strategic Services."
Lorenzo frowned.
"Never heard of it."
"Owned by another shell."
"And that one?"
Nico looked toward me.
"Aster Medical Logistics."
My stomach dropped.
There it was again.
Aster.
The company Travis worked for.
The company delivering Leo's medical supplies.
The company that indirectly created the agency that hired me.
I sat down.
"They chose me."
Nobody answered.
They didn't need to.
Nico continued.
"Your application wasn't random either."
He placed a printed page in front of me.
My name.
Work history.
Apartment.
Emergency contact.
Pregnancy.
I stared at the last line.
POSTPARTUM — RECENT FETAL LOSS.
My vision blurred.
"How did they know?"
Lorenzo's voice became hard.
"Who had access to this?"
"Hospital."
"Police."
"Insurance."
I whispered the last word.
Travis.
He had been on my insurance until two months before Lily died.
Nico looked at me.
"We pulled security from the staffing company's former office."
"You said it was closed."
"Landlord retained exterior footage."
He turned the tablet.
A man entered the office two weeks before I was hired.
Baseball cap.
Gray jacket.
Beard.
I knew his walk before I saw his face.
"Travis."
My lungs stopped working.
The room blurred.
"That's him."
Lorenzo looked at Nico.
"When?"
"Nine days after Maya's fall."
Nine days.
While I was arranging Lily's funeral.
While I was signing death certificates.
While my body was producing milk for a child who would never drink it.
Travis was helping someone send me to the Rossi mansion.
I stood.
"I need air."
Lorenzo followed me onto the terrace.
Cold wind hit my face.
I gripped the stone railing.
"I should have known."
"Known what?"
"That he wasn't gone."
"You thought he ran."
"He always ran."
"This time he sold something first."
I closed my eyes.
"Me."
Lorenzo said nothing.
"He sold me."
"You don't know that yet."
"Yes, I do."
I turned.
"Nobody knew about the milk except doctors and Travis."
His gaze dropped.
The truth sat between us.
The person who designed this had known exactly what I represented.
A woman whose child had died.
A woman still producing milk.
A woman psychologically vulnerable.
A woman with a violent fugitive boyfriend.
A woman who could be framed as unstable.
Perfect.
"If Leo died," I whispered, "you would find me in that nursery eventually."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
"Maybe."
"And then what?"
He didn't answer.
"What would you have done?"
His eyes met mine.
Three days earlier, he had pointed a gun at me without hesitation.
I already knew.
"You would have killed me."
His voice was low.
"Probably."
The honesty hurt less than a lie would have.
I turned back toward the trees.
"And the person behind this knew that."
Lorenzo stood beside me.
"He expected me to solve the problem for him."
A bitter laugh escaped.
"I'd be dead. Leo would be dead. Travis would disappear."
"And everyone would stop looking."
We remained silent.
After a moment, Lorenzo said, "I am sorry."
I looked at him.
"For what?"
"For pointing the gun at you."
I almost smiled.
"That's a strange apology."
"I'm not practiced."
"I noticed."
He looked away.
"I haven't apologized to many people."
"Maybe you should start."
That earned me the smallest hint of amusement.
Then it vanished.
"My wife wanted me to change things."
I had never heard him speak about Elena.
Not directly.
"What things?"
"My family."
"Meaning the Mafia?"
He looked at me.
"You say things nobody else says."
"I already got a gun pointed at me. The mystery is gone."
He almost laughed.
Almost.
Then his eyes went toward the horizon.
"Elena hated what the Rossi name meant."
"Why did she marry you?"
"Bad judgment."
I smiled.
This time, so did he.
Then sadness returned.
"She believed people could decide to become something else."
"And you?"
"I believed people became what survival required."
"What changed?"
"Leo."
One word.
He looked through the glass doors toward his son.
"When Elena died, I told myself I would make everything safe for him."
"You built more security."
"Yes."
"And somebody poisoned him inside it."
His voice went flat.
"I built a fortress."
I understood before he said it.
"And locked the enemy inside."
That night, Nico brought another piece.
Dr. Bellini had signed every altered feeding record.
Lorenzo summoned him.
The doctor arrived pale and sweating.
He was in his fifties.
Expensive coat.
Perfect haircut.
Hands that wouldn't stay still.
"I treated Leo according to accepted protocols."
Lorenzo placed the laboratory results in front of him.
"Read them."
Bellini glanced down.
His face lost color.
"These could be contaminated."
"Read them."
"Lorenzo—"
"Read."
Bellini did.
Diluted formula.
Sedative.
Falsified intake.
He stopped.
Lorenzo leaned against the desk.
"How much were you paid?"
Bellini looked offended.
"I was not paid."
"Then what?"
Silence.
Nico dropped another document.
Casino debt.
Eight hundred forty thousand dollars.
Bellini sat down.
"I never hurt the child."
"Your name is on every false chart."
"I was given the numbers."
"By who?"
"I can't."
Lorenzo moved closer.
"I want you to understand something."
His voice never rose.
"My son weighed seven pounds, four ounces when he was born. Three days ago he weighed six pounds, eleven."
Bellini shut his eyes.
"I know."
"You watched him disappear."
"I never gave him anything."
"But you lied."
The doctor began crying.
"I was told it was temporary."
"By who?"
"I was told they needed him kept under observation."
"Who?"
Bellini's face twisted.
"They said nobody was trying to kill him."
My stomach turned.
Lorenzo became perfectly still.
"Who said that?"
Bellini looked toward the door.
Then whispered:
"Mr. Rossi."
Lorenzo's eyes went cold.
"I am Mr. Rossi."
Bellini shook his head.
"Not you."
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Lorenzo spoke.
"My uncle."
Bellini lowered his head.
May you like
That was answer enough.
---
